


dark roasted espresso (with a shot of cream)

by rossettes



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bar fights, Crack, Drinking, Gen, M/M, east and west coast rivalries, passive aggressive award speeches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rossettes/pseuds/rossettes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Their rivalry begins somewhere at the height of winter, Corteo recalls. Angelo had taken forever to get ready that morning and was in a grouchy mood after discovering that their coffee bean supply was depleted. Corteo blames their cat for knocking over Angelo’s daily morning brew every morning. </p>
  <p>Angelo gets offended.</p>
</blockquote><br/>Who needs friends when you got a rival named Nero Vanetti?
            </blockquote>





	dark roasted espresso (with a shot of cream)

**Author's Note:**

> wwaazup my dudes
> 
> posted first on tumblr then i realized i left some stuff on there by accident but its not a big deal lmaoo
> 
> as always, written on my phone at 11 pm with no beta cuz thts how i roll nya >:3c

Their rivalry begins somewhere at the height of winter, Corteo recalls. Angelo had taken forever to get ready that morning and was in a grouchy mood after discovering that their coffee bean supply was depleted. Corteo blames their cat for knocking over Angelo’s daily morning brew every morning.

Angelo gets offended. 

Yes, Corteo remembers their meeting very well. He jokingly calls it a tale of revenge in the heart of New York City, much to the pair’s annoyance. Corteo is a pure soul with a great memory, and Angelo is his friend and brother– therefore he is always sure to tell everyone and anyone Angelo and Nero’s tragic tale of revenge and friendship. 

Corteo remembers. Their tale starts on a cold and dreary winter day, in a small but warm Starbucks.

A tragic tale indeed.

 

* * *

 

“You got your drink, right? Could you make sure Babylon’s still in her carrier?”

“Why do we even bring our cat outside…? She’s perfectly fine at home. Alone." 

"Please?”

“You owe me lunch." 

Angelo stares at the fleeting back of his best friend, exiting the small store and entering into a large lobby. Turning away, he sighs and runs his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair in exasperation, grabbing his phone from his coat’s left pocket to check the schedule. No updates. Uughh. 

"Peppermint frappe!" 

He isn’t really fond of Starbucks, but it was the closest coffee shop from his and Corteo’s shared apartment. He wasn’t braving the storm for a cup Dunkies. For now, Angelo will settle for second best. He still prefers Dunkies.

"Venti dark roast, two shots mocha and 3 shots espresso with cream!" 

"Finally,” Angelo mutters under his breath, reaching forward to grab his drink and _go_. His hand reaches the cup the exact same time another hand shoots out and reaches the lid. Angelo freezes and turns his head to his right to see some blond douche wearing a fucking _red tank top_. What the hell. 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure this is mine,” Angelo says without any hint of any emotion. “I’ve been waiting for like. Ten minutes." 

"And?” the douche asks. “I’ve been waiting for eight. You probs heard the order wrong." 

Oh, fucking game on. "Venti dark roast, two shots mocha, and three shots espresso with cream. Pretty sure it’s mine.” The man stares before clicking his tongue. “I haven’t had coffee all morning, I’m freezing, and my dog is waiting outside in the cold snow. Have some sympathy man,” the blond tries. He points outside towards a huge golden retriever, sitting and wagging his tail as a few teenagers pet him.

“Well boo hoo, I haven’t had coffee all morning either and I have a cat waiting for my return. Unlike you I actually have the brains to wear a fucking jacket. You look like some dick who just hopped off a plane from California without checking the goddamn weather.” In the corner of his eye, Angelo can see Corteo walking towards him with concern on his face. And some whip cream.

The blond looks offended.

“Venti dark roast, two shots mocha and 3 shots espresso with cream.” Angelo lets go of the one they’ve been fighting over, immediately escaping with the second and warmer cup without a glance towards the douche-in-the-red-tank.

 

* * *

 

Nero bursts through the door of his new movie’s set like a mad man, panting and shivering as flecks of snow cling onto his hair. “Sorry I’m late, I got lost. New York has no mercy apparently. I almost got ran over by a car?" 

The director stares at his outfit– he is wearing the only jacket he brought to this goddamn icicle– and smiles warmly, opening his arms without going in for a hug. "Welcome to New York, Nero. You better get used to it." 

Fucking east coasters. Nero swears their emotions have been frozen solid by the freezing temperatures. They’re all ice queens. Every last one of ‘em. Another man walks up to the director, asking about lights and sounds and whatever the tech crew deals with. The director points to another man and the poor techie heaves a sigh and walks away.

"Anyway,” the director smiles (totally creepy but hey, Nero likes this role and his job), “let’s have you meet some of your co-stars. I’m sure they’re very eager to meet you." 

Nero returns the man’s smile and nods obediently, knowing very well that 'very eager to meet’ means 'not very eager and dreading your arrival’. Or, since Nero has a lot of experience in his chosen profession, it could mean 'eager to meet and exploit your weaknesses to further their own career.’ Ah, the sweet world of acting. 

They walk past at least ten doors to reach their destination, and Nero’s first thought was that renting this building must have at least costed the paychecks of his previous two movies combined. Nero’s second thought was that he was totally jumping into that chocolate fountain in the fourth room they passed. Totally. No one would or could stop him.

Motioning Nero to follow him, the director led the man into a spacious room decked out in the finest of furs and furniture. And sitting on a very expensive couch was none other than… his cousin. 

The fuck? 

"Flatte? What are you doing here?” Nero asked, eyebrows scrunching in slight disgust. 

“I’m playing your bro,” the younger replied while stuffing a muffin into his mouth. Fucking slob. 

“Where’s Angelo and Corteo? They were just here, yes?" 

"Went to find coffee." 

The group settles down quickly, assistants running around and handing Nero his script and briefing them on the movie. Sending one of the younger assistants who had handed him a water bottle a smile, Nero quickly opened the cap of the bottle and took a swig. 

Seconds later, a pair of men wearing trench coats waltzed in with matching cups, only to pause and stare wide-eyed at Nero. 

_The fuck?_

"Cali-boy? What are you doing here?" 

_Cali-boy?_

"Angelo for Christ’s sake, stop calling him Cali-boy. He’s right there." 

Nero makes an unintelligible noise. 

"Anyway! Nero, this is Angelo and Corteo Lagusa!” a hand directed his sights to a dark toned male and the man he saw at Starbucks the other day. 

“Angelo and Corteo, this is Nero Vanetti! He flew in from Cali a few days ago.”

“So he is Cali-boy…" 

"Angelo please…" 

The man-from-Starbucks wipes all expression from his face and takes a few steps towards Nero. Extending his hand he nodded, "Pleasure to be working with you Nero.”

_What?_

He sees Corteo praying in the corner of his eyes. 

Taking Angelo’s hand into his, Nero shook it. “The pleasure’s mine.”

 

* * *

 

Bright flashes blinded Nero’s eyes. Despite the excruciating pain, he sent the cameras the brightest and toothiest grin he could muster up. He smiled and waved as more cameras surrounded the red carpet. To his right, Corteo dealt with at least a dozen reporters and interviewers. That man never ceased to amaze him. 

“Mr. Angelo, over here!" 

So he finally came. 

A flurry of flashes and reporters flocked over to Angelo’s spot, hounding him with questions and bright lights. Nero might’ve hated his guts, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy for the man. Rest in pieces Angelo. 

Corteo waved in Angelo’s direction and shot him a sorry look. Nero swore he heard a 'please help me’ from Angelo before being swamped with more bright flashes. Nero continued walking down the carpet, smiling and waving as the poor man behind him could barely walk away without being roped back to his original position. 

"Mr. Nero! If I could have a few words from you!” More bright lights and yelling. 

Oh, the woes of being a main character.

 

* * *

 

“I would like to thank the Academy for this prestigious award and also my mother, father, and blood brother; whom have passed away before they could see me pursuing my dreams. To stand here on this stage, accepting this award, is a very big deal to me. Also, a big thanks to the production crew and director for making such a beautiful series that gave me this opportunity. 

"And I could never forget about my adopted brother, whose family supported me despite their financial problems. I wouldn’t have been here without your love and support, so thank you Corteo and your family, for everything you’ve done for me.

"Lastly, to a particular man whom I will not name. This isn’t a thank you really, but rather a 'look at me now’ mention. You owe me a drink. Thank you again for this award. I will treasure this moment in my heart forever. I’m sure my family in heaven is proud." 

 Loud applause broke out as Angelo slowly descended back down from the stage and into the crowd of renowned actors and actresses. 

Somewhere in the crowd, Nero pulled out his wallet and counted his spare change. 

 

* * *

 

"I bet I could drink more than you." 

"Every bet you’ve given me, I’ve beaten you. And no offense, but I’m not gonna be carrying you home tonight through all this snow." 

"Why would you carry me home? Just call a cab or something?" 

"Corteo and I live around here. There’s no point in spending money." 

The pair sat in dimly lit bar, their faces hidden under their hats. It’d be no good to have the paparazzi following them to such a secluded bar near the actor’s home. 

"I’m not some lightweight. I can hold a shit ton of alcohol in me!”

“Then knock yourself out. I’ll just leave you here for the press to find. Think of the headlines. Your family would be real proud, no?" 

Nero clicked his tongue and downed another shot. 

"Shut up. Bet your a huge light weight. I bought you one drink and haven’t even seen you order another one in ages." 

"Watching you get drunk is better than chugging down drinks." 

The table shakes and a glass jug is chucked in their direction. Nero does the first thing that comes into his head. 

He screams bloody murder. 

The formerly quiet and secluded bar suddenly flares to life as more jugs are thrown around, crashing against the walls and floor and shattering. Tiny flecks of glass cover the floor in seconds and Nero screams until Angelo splashes beer into the blond’s face. 

A bar fight started by some dick who drank too much. There’s a reason why Angelo doesn’t take that bet. Nero realizes that now. 

Still, Nero would’ve totally joined the fight. At least, would’ve joined five years ago. 

(He’s an old man, is what his cousin says. Nero agrees only when it’s convenient.)

A hand grabs his and suddenly, Nero’s being dragged away from the bar before he could slap some bills down as a tip for the poor bartender. They exit the now-rambunctious bar and speed down the snow covered streets, away from the chaos and noise. Snow falls from the dimly lit sky above. 

"Holy shit.” Angelo just snickers, snatching his hat off and shoving it into his coat’s pocket. 

“You know,” Nero starts, “I still want another drink. That was some good stuff back there. But it’ll probs be gone by the time we get back. Life fucking sucks. You better have some stuff back at your place." 

"Who invited you?" 

"Corteo, once he sees me covered in snow." 

Nero grins victoriously when he sees Angelo’s shoulders slump. 

"So, any good booze over there?" 

Angelo is silent. After a few moments, a hand reaches under his heavy coat and pulls out a dark silhouette of a bottle. Nero squints. 

"It’s the same thing as the one you were having back there. I took it while the bartender was hiding from the chaos." 

Nero inhales. And exhales. 

"Angelo, you fucking good for nothing thief,” Nero slings an arm around the other’s neck and rustles up the other’s hair. “Your my savior. I owe you like, my dog or something." 

"Please keep your dog away from my cat." 

Under Nero’s arm, Angelo hides his blush. 

 

* * *

 

"So… why is Nero asleep on the floor? Actually, no. Why is he in our apartment?" 

Angelo points at the wine bottle in Nero’s arms. "He got drunk and it was snowing. So here he is." 

Corteo, bless his good soul, simply sighs and walks away. The cat follows him back into his room.

Pulling out his phone, Angelo snaps a picture of Nero on the floor and captions it 'i won the bet’ before adding it to his story. 

 Ah, the sweet scent of wine infused victory.

**Author's Note:**

> yea but angelo w a cat is my aesthetic lmao 
> 
> catch these handz @ my sideblog on tumblr @ avilioz


End file.
